


The Outlaws

by RedMoon616



Series: Matt & Mackenzie's Most Memorable Moments [6]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crime Fighting, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, F/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedMoon616/pseuds/RedMoon616
Summary: Mackenzie is finally able to officially debut in the world of vigilantism with her new suit, going alongside Daredevil to frustrate a big operation set up by the newly resurged Russian mafia. What both of them couldn't have predicted is who they would run into while on their little mission. None other than the infamous Punisher himself.Sixth part of a series of short stories contemplating the sometimes usual, but mostly unusual, life of Matt & Mackenzie. A continuation (kinda) of Daring the Devil.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Matt & Mackenzie's Most Memorable Moments [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607302
Kudos: 2





	The Outlaws

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sixth part of a series that focuses on the everyday life of Murdock and his girlfriend Mackenzie, and how has their relationship evolved after the events of Daring the Devil (which I recommend you check out first if you haven't, to have some context and back story). Hope you enjoy!

Well, hello there, my good friend. How have you been lately? I hope that you are doing fine, just like I am –for now at least–. If you wanna know what has me so happy and excited then let me tell you: my suit has finally arrived! Yes, it’s here, and it’s _wonderful_. I can’t believe I have it in my hands; this feels more like a dream than reality. And just in time as well since Murdock and I have this very important mission coming up, which is going to involve a lot of bad men, probably armed to the teeth. At first, Matt was against me going with him ( **obviously** , you know what the man is like when it comes to me and dangerous situations), but I managed to convince him after two weeks of relentless insistence.

Although, we actually had to compromise on it, ‘cause he wouldn’t let me go unless I had my suit and I said I _would_ go behind his back without it if he didn’t agree to let me help him out. Complicated, I know, also annoying, but that’s how it goes around here. Anyway, the amazing suit (which is black and red like Matthew’s and made with the same materials, but with more black and less red (you know, to not outshine him or whatever; he says that it’s so I won’t stand out as much, but I know the truth) isn’t the only new thing I got recently. After we came back from Melvin’s the first time –and yes, also after our little S&M session–, a package arrived at our doorstep. It was a beautifully carved wooden box, with dark red colored plush velvet lining the inside, that held two identical sai (that had black and red intertwined cords covering the handles).

The gift, of course, came from Elektra, since it screamed “expensive”, but the funny thing was that –despite deducting that initial detail from the beginning– Matt thought that it was for him, and was scandalized because of it. It wasn’t until I took the little note that came with the box and read it out loud that we both found out that the weapons were actually for me instead. At that, he became almost enraged, going on and on about how Elektra had dared to send something like that to me (that it was dangerous, selfish, reckless, and much more). Of course, I was way too interested in my new tools to even pay more than half attention to Murdock and his rant, and that’s why _I_ ended up being scolded.

There was also a phone call that took place that night, with a very upset and angry Matt on one side and a bemused Elektra on the other. Didn’t pay attention, though, I was too engrossed in starting to practice with the sai. Oh, and if you were left wondering about more details regarding the suit, then let me give a further description. Like I said before, it’s mostly black, except for a few accentuated parts. It’s also full coverage, composed of three pieces, all armored: the pants, the shirt, and a vest. This is supposed to give me more mobility on the limbs while keeping my core extra protected from impact and some kinds of slashes from knives and the like. Still, Melvin warned that –as with Daredevil’s suit– it isn’t that effective against shots and stabs. Don’t mind a lot, though, since it’s better than having just cloth covering my mortal body. A little more protection goes a long way.

Oh, and as “accessories”, I was given a pair of black leather, almost thigh-high boots, with knee pads for ultimate groin/nose destruction; a belt with adjustable holsters (that can accommodate different kinds of weapons, so I’ll be able to carry my sai without problem); a pair of sleek black gloves with reinforced knuckles; and a stylish mask that attaches to the high turtle neck of the shirt, so that it’s harder to get ripped off of my head, thus securing my “secret identity”. Damn, to even think about _having_ a secret identity makes me giggle like an excited schoolgirl. I can’t believe I’ll finally be able to become a full-fledged ~~superhero~~ vigilante. So stoked!

Only missing part would be a cool symbol or insignia, you know, like Matt and Frank have (the horns and the skull, respectively). Melvin asked about it when consulting about the design, but I told him that I didn’t know yet (and yeah, Murdock tried to interfere, saying that I didn’t need one and blah blah blah, but neither paid him any attention). I actually want to wait until I get “baptized” by the press, like Daredevil and the Punisher did with theirs. That would be dope. At least I hope so; if I end up with a crappy vigilante pseudonym, then I guess I’m screwed.

“You know, staring at it won’t make time go faster”, Matt comments snidely and unnecessarily, smiling smugly after probably deducting I'm glaring at him. I know he is right, but I seriously can’t wait any longer to put the suit on and at least go on patrol. Our deal about the upcoming “big event” –which entails a drug and arms deal between Russian sellers and local criminal buyers–, came with the frustrating downside that I’m not allowed to go on patrol until the night of the sell, to not get injured and put myself out of the “playing field” for that night.

I ended up accepting because I would not miss that for the _world_ , no matter how much Murdock wants me to do so. I mean, he put that stupid “no patrolling” clause as a means to discourage me from crashing the big operation coming up, thinking that I wouldn’t stand for being in voluntarily house arrest at night, but his plan ended up backfiring. I understand that it also makes sense since I’m so determined to go on that mission that I won’t take “no” for an answer, that I really need to be in my best shape to at least get out of there alive; so, in the end, I ain’t complaining. A deal is a deal, Matthew, so you better stick to your end of it.

It isn’t that bad anyway since I have been taking advantage of all this free time I have at night (after being exempt from patrolling) by polishing all of my skills as much as possible. From the “night vision” to my recent training with the sai, I’ve been working myself to exhaustion almost every day. My afternoons and evenings have been filled with all kinds of exercises, not only to keep myself in good shape but to sharpen everything for the important occasion that’s lurking just around the corner.

And it’s not only a matter of survival, nor even success, it’s about proving my worth to Matt and making him proud in the process. I know he still doubts the extent of my skills, he still worries too much, so I **need** to make him see (no pun intended; well, maybe a little bit) how good I am at this, and how much of an instrumental piece I can be to the whole crime-fighting vigilante scene. He needs to see a partner in me, someone he can rely on, not just his young girlfriend who he has to look out for. I'm not a kid, I haven’t been in a long time, even if sometimes I act childishly. I have matured so much, in the last year alone; I know I’m ready for the big league. All I have to do is to prove myself to him, ‘cause as far as I am concerned, I believe I already did that to everyone else. He’s the last one that still needs convincing.

“No, it won’t, but neither will do _not_ looking at it”, I reply with as much of a smartass attitude as he used first. If he can be all sassy and judgemental, then so can I. Equality, Murdock, get on with the times! Still, my similarly brazen answer doesn’t get a further reaction besides a snort and an amused smirk. Cheeky bastard that won’t even feign being offended; where’s the fun in that, Matthew? Whatever, I’ll just go back to staring at my badass suit and ignoring him altogether. He’s just sitting at the kitchen table going over some case files, while I’m sprawled on the couch, playing around with my still brand-new mask while looking at the rest of the suit, lying on the coffee table.

It has been like that for days now, but Matt hasn’t commented on it besides telling me to move it when we eat here instead of at the table, or when he wants to put his feet up to unwind for a little while. I guess he’s just too entertained (might even find it adorable) by my apparent crush on an outfit to even argue about it taking over most of the surface of the small furniture. It’s not like I would listen to him that much if he did, though; I would probably just put it away for a few hours and then bring it back out again.

Like, can you even blame me? I have to be staying inside, _looking_ at it while Murdock gets to go out on patrol wearing his, and even using the new and kickass Billy Club! Not fair. Even if I put the whole ensemble on is not the same; I need to _use_ it not just **wear** it. I need to smear the reinforced knuckles and protective knee pads with the blood of my enemies! And yeah, that sounds super dramatic, so what? I'm sure you would feel the same way if you were in my position, don’t even try to lie to me. I think that at this point we already know each other well enough to be able to guess that kind of stuff about the other. But anyway, Matt’s right: time won’t move any faster no matter how much I try to will it to do so. All there’s left to do is to wait and keep getting stronger and better in the meantime.

* * *

Another night, another warehouse. I get why apparently all mobsters in the city prefer to use abandoned warehouses by the docks, but they seriously can’t conduct their businesses anywhere else? Like, it’s such a cliché, we get it. When will come the day in which we’ll have to shut down a shady operation taking place at a club or someplace fun? Yeah, I know, I know, it’ll only be riskier not only for Matt and me but for the civilians gathered there, happening to enjoy their night at said place. Still, it doesn't hurt to dream a little bit about it; unless Murdock catches wind of it, of course, thus resulting in him lecturing me about the dangers of such an awful scenario coming to life.

Moving on from the fantasies I like to indulge in my free time, we are just outside the aforementioned warehouse, waiting for Matt to give the okay to go in. He has been listening in for at least five minutes now, tracking the movements of as many henchmen and goons as possible, while I fill the role of lookout, watching his back as he concentrates on the people inside the building. It’s only when I notice a dark figure lurking around the corner of a neighboring storehouse, that Murdock’s snaps out of his trance and whips around to look in the same direction I am. Well, something’s definitely wrong then. Otherwise, I doubt that he would even bother to pay attention to whatever or whoever I saw.

“Shit”, he mutters darkly, clearly pissed off by the new presence that seems to be shadowing us. Who could it be right now, to make things worse? “It’s Frank”, he answers my unspoken question in the same whispering voice full of annoyance and trepidation. Yeah, that would upset him instantly. Ever since he found out about my close encounter with The Punisher (the first one, while I was working undercover), he has been extremely reticent about the two of us being in the same area together, even if it’s with him present. I mean, I don’t blame him, Castle is scary as fuck, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t kill me even if I tried to take his life. He would probably beat me up for attempting it but would leave me alive. He’s not _that_ much of a monster anyway. And just as Matt reveals the identity of the apparent stalker, the man himself walks out from the cover provided by the shadows he was hiding in.

“What are you doing here, Frank?” Murdock asks hastily, all stiff and ready to pounce if just to keep his fellow vigilante from starting to shoot his way inside the building packed with Russian gangsters. It’s kind of funny how he only seems to take two stances when it comes to Frank, he either appeals to the almost nonexistent good side of Castle, or he gets all “walk away on your own or I’ll make you” kind of defensive-offensive attitude that usually gets him all bruised and bloodied; no middle ground. On his part, though, The Punisher only looks half amused and half tired at Matt, obviously not wanting to get into an argument with Daredevil about his right or reason to be here tonight. Like, honestly, Matt? If you ask nicely enough, I think Frank would agree to your no killing rule. It’s not as if he hadn’t done that before, right?

“Same thing you two are doing, looking to bring down a bunch of Russian bastards”, he answers in his characteristic gruff way of talking, dismissing instantly Murdock’s attempt to dissuade him from getting involved. Interestingly enough, he said “bring down” instead of something along the lines of “shooting in the face”, as one would be expecting from him given his ultra-violent record. The man is literally a killer, even if he kills only scumbags and criminals.

Naturally, Matt is displeased by his answer, but Castle doesn’t even acknowledge the other’s reaction to his reply. Instead, the former marine just looks straight at me, seeming to notice for the first time my get-up and giving me a once over as a result. I think I manage to catch some kind of approval present in his eyes, but it passes too quickly to be sure about it. Whatever, as much as it would be appreciated, I don’t need his praise; I _know_ I look fucking amazing in my new suit. “Hey kid”, he grunts lightly in greeting, obviously referring to me. Despite being aware that he means well by that, I still feel like it’s sort of rude.

“Okay, let me stop you right there”, I say while holding up a hand and feeling more confident than I thought possible. Who could’ve guessed that I would already be feeling rather comfortable around the man just after our third meeting? “I know that I’m on the ‘young side’ and all that shit, but you don’t need to call me ‘kid’ every time you address me. I have a name, ya know?” I explain in a low drawl, trying to make my point and at the same time keeping as quiet as I can so we don’t get any unwanted attention.

I’m sure Matt will complain not only about Frank’s unexpected (yet unsurprising) presence but about our casual chat as well, not caring about pleasantries while in the middle of a criminal operation takedown. Or maybe he will just get irritated by our lack of seriousness and just fuck off on his own, looking to do his business undeterred while Castle and I have at it outside the fray.

“Yeah, but ‘kid’ ‘s easier to remember”, the larger man ultimately retorts in defense of his slight. Can’t you believe this guy? I don’t expect him to remember my whole backstory, which I’m sure he has been made aware of –at least some– at one point or another in time by either Matt or Karen, but not remembering my _name_? Fucking hell, man. Where are your manners, big guy?

Having been on the military, let alone the **Marine Corps** you would expect him to retain some small but perhaps important (seeing not only that I’m the girlfriend of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, which -whom he crosses paths with from time to time, but that I’m now officially a fellow vigilante as well) tidbit of information like a _fucking_ name, but guess I’m just wrong then. Really insulting, if you ask me. I remember his, and not just because it was plastered all over the news for weeks at least.

“Unbelievable”, I mutter under my breath (turning my back on him to give my attention back to the building bustling with activity inside), which I know it’s fucking useless as an attempt to keep my reaction unheard since we are at the docks in the middle of the fucking night. No, of course not, what am I even thinking? Not only the guy with enhanced senses can hear me backtalk in an exasperated way and with a “why do I have to put up with this type of bullshit?” kind of attitude, but the man I’m talking about as well.

It’s a miracle I’m still standing on my own two feet and not lying on the floor with my teeth knocked out. I know other people have suffered worse for less at the hands of The Punisher, then again I get the impression that he wouldn't think it wise to punch _Daredevil’s girlfriend_ in the fucking face while said man is standing three feet from him. Kinda wish he would tho, so that Matt could kick his ass on my behalf. Anyway, I prefer to keep my mouth intact, thank you very much.

“It’s also shorter”, Castle adds in a mumbled murmur that’s almost unintelligible, but still clear enough for me to catch as well as Murdock –who’s still remaining otherwise uninvolved with our conversation, despite his obvious awareness of the same–. I’m still kinda timing this all to see how long does it take serious and strict Matthew to finally butt in and interrupt us, bringing our amicable little chat to an end for once and for all. I know that under the surface he is seething with irritation, he’s just reigning it in for the time being. He’ll snap soon enough, asking not only for silence but for attention to the task at hand too. Still, I can’t fucking believe Castle’s infuriating response.

“So you _do_ remember my name then”, I state with an accusing tone while turning around to look at him once again, allowing my face to morph into an expression full of frustrated annoyance. This bastard has the balls to call me just a fucking “kid” because he’s too fucking lazy to pronounce my name?! What in the entire fuck? I know we’re not on a diminutive form of given names basis, but make a fucking effort, asshole!

Jesus fucking Christ, _I’m_ not even that freaking lazy. And yeah, I get that I’m letting myself become way too riled up by a moron that’s just looking to tease me and make fun of me, but it really irks me that he seems to not want to show the tiniest bit of respect by just calling me by my proper name. Fucking _rude_ , I’m telling you. I mean, after convincing Matt to help him out the last time that I saw him, he should at least be grateful enough to address me accordingly. What a fucking joke.

“Can you two stop bickering for a second? We have more pressing issues at hand”, Murdock finally snaps back irritably, having gotten increasingly more pissed as the pointless conversation dragged on. Don’t blame him, and I’m actually relieved that he decided to step in, after all, otherwise, I might have tried on Castle my sai for the first time against an opponent. Fuck that “don’t bring a knife to a gunfight” rule, I’ll fuck him up if he keeps the disrespectful act. And it’s almost as if Matt could hear my thoughts –or maybe he’s just reading my body language–, because next thing that I’m aware of is a strong hand circling one of my wrists and pulling me inside the dark building.

“Despite how much I want to tell you to go back home, I know that you won’t do that”, Matt tells me in a low voice while keeping me trapped against a wall (which surely must be to hide me and or protect me, but it’s giving my body the wrong kind of signals). If we weren’t inside a warehouse full of Russian gangsters, I might believe we’re about to engage in some hot impromptu sex. Nevertheless, here we are in the middle of a mission.

“So, instead of doing something useless like that, I’m going to pointedly ask you to _steer away_ from Castle if possible. Is that clear?” He continues more firmly, almost desperate to confirm my agreement to his terms. He’s obviously worried that I might get in the crossfire, which is not that improbable, considering how reckless Frank can be (yeah, yeah, and me as well). It’s best if I just put aside his concerns and do as I’m told. No need to give the poor man an unnecessary heart attack.

“Yes, sir”, I respond in mock enthusiasm, accentuating the last word just to see his jaw work in that compelling way of his. It’s so dark in here that I barely catch sight of it, but it’s still absolutely worth it. And right after that, we are joined by Castle himself, who begins planning a strategy with Matt. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll go wherever the other two don’t, especially the Punisher.

Yet, of course, I’m bound to remain close to Murdock in case I need his help. It kinda bothers me that it’s always “in case **I** need his help” and not the other way around –which is fucking preposterous since he gets injured as often as me, if not more–, but I know this is not the time to start arguing about that. I’ll bring it up later when we are inside the safety of our home. Don’t get me wrong, though, I’m really grateful that he looks out for me, most of all in this kind of dangerous situation; it just infuriates me that he disregards _his_ safety and wellbeing. And the matter that I’ve known this for ages doesn’t change how I feel about it.

As the two men come to an agreement (and begrudgingly so), Matt turns back in my direction to let me know what the actual plan is, indicating which path I have to follow in order to encounter the least amount of men possible while remaining close to where he’ll be. I nod obediently in understanding, whispering my assurance that if anything goes wrong, I’ll go looking for him. Still, he reluctantly tells me that in the unlikely case that either I couldn’t reach him or he couldn’t help me out, I should search for Castle instead, which is surprising, to say the least –especially considering his previous words–.

Not only did he manage to convince _himself_ that counting on Frank to help me out could be a viable option, but he got the Punisher to **agree** as well? Damn, that takes some courage. I guess it’s good, though, right? As long as I don’t run towards Castle while he’s making it rain with his absurd amount of ammo, then I’ll be safe and sound, hiding behind his imposing frame.

With that disturbing –yet oddly comforting– image in my mind, I tell Matt that I will keep alert in case he’s “unavailable”, and will promptly turn in Castle’s direction. This seems to ease his anxiety a bit, even if not much because he’s still concerned that I might get in the crossfire, due to Castle recklessness and/or mine. Jesus, he’s such a control freak sometimes. I can see the regret of letting me come tonight written all over the visible half of his face. Seeing his jaw tense by the second, I decide to distract him a little bit, so that he’ll go into the oncoming chaos in a more relaxed state of mind and won’t make a stupid mistake because he’s worrying sick about me.

Not caring at all that Castle is just standing a few feet away, I gently cup Matt’s face between my hands and slowly pull him down to give him a three-seconds, closed-mouth kiss on the lips. Once I pull away, I tell him I love him before taking a step back. It’s not like I think either of us is going to die tonight… But just in case something bad _does_ happen, well, better safe than sorry. He seems to get the hidden meaning of my gesture and his lips instantly form a tight line of displeasure. Thankfully, though, he swallows whatever fear he was about to voice and instead tells me that he loves me too. Such a romantic, my lovely boyfriend.

Beside us, Frank ends up scoffing a little and muttering something that I don’t manage to catch, but –obviously– Murdock does, if his jaw suddenly twitching madly is anything to go by. Alright, that’s enough for now, we can deal with Castle’s bullshit some other time, now we need to focus on what we all came here for. So, shall we, gentlemen?

Without further comments, we end up splitting up, opting for covering as much ground as possible. I take off quietly in the direction of what seems to be the recess area for workers, paying attention to whatever my senses manage to catch. Not even a minute goes by since I walked away on my own that I start hearing shouts coming from different directions, accompanied by muffled punching sounds and echoing gunshots. Marvelous, I wonder what _I’ll_ get then.

Hopefully, just a bunch of stupid Russian assholes who are on the easier side of the “takedown” spectrum. Maybe even tired ones, that stepped aside to get a coffee and sit down to rest for a little bit, until their next shift arrives. Honestly, I’m not even a hundred percent sure what the hell is this whole operation for. Yes, something to do with guns and drugs, surely, but from what Matt told me about it, I think there might be a bigger plan on the brewing here.

As I near what would seem to be a breakroom, I begin to hear harsh muttering in some language I can’t understand. Russian, I would bet, if I had to go for the obvious choice. And despite how unhelpful that is in my attempt to discover what this entire operation is really about, I shouldn’t be surprised that these motherfuckers are speaking in their mother tongue, especially considering they have no reason to speak English since there _shouldn’t_ be any non-Russian speakers lingering around, such as myself and my two fellow vigilantes.

What is interesting though, is that this merry bunch doesn’t seem alerted by the ongoing battle taking place not far from here… Then again, I just came to the realization that neither can **I** hear any of the mayhem carrying on someplace else inside the building. Could it be that Murdock and Castle are already done with their self-assigned portion of the pie? Or is it just that I strayed further away than planned while seeking someone to fight, not wanting to feel useless and all that? Well, at this point, who knows, and does it even matter? I’m here, they are too, and that can only mean it’s time to engage the enemy.

I press against one of the walls that leads to the open door of the little room that holds at least three men inside, wanting to minimize my presence and keep as stealthy as possible while assessing the situation. So far, I’ve definitely heard only three people talk, and I dearly hope that that’s the case, since I’ll have to go in basically blind. I can’t take a peek without risking being discovered, and waiting for them to exit the room could take longer than necessary. I don’t want to worry Matt, making him think something bad happened to me just because I took _too long_ to deal with a few guys; he’ll come after me immediately if that happens.

And although I’m sure he’ll be happy that I didn’t engage at all for having waited until he had to come see if I’m still alive, and would even sort them out himself gleefully as long as I don’t risk even breaking a nail, I wouldn’t be able to live down the embarrassment for not being able to take care of this on my own. And don’t even get me started on what would happen if Castle got wind of it. A fucking nightmare, that would be.

So, wanting my share of the blazing glory, I ready myself to just waltz in –taking advantage of the surprise factor– and knock them all out so they don’t eventually go join their comrades in the other rooms. Yes, I could just fucking walk away and leave them be; at this rate, I doubt they’ll find out what’s going on before we leave, but I came here for a reason, and leaving conscious Russian fuckers isn’t it. Besides, it’s better if the police deal with “asleep” criminals instead of awake ones, especially if said gangsters are armed to the teeth and seething with rage. That wouldn’t end up pretty otherwise. Alright, no big deal, it’s just three of them. And even if they have guns, I have my sai and the element of surprise on my side.

First of all, I have to take one down right from the get-go, then dealing with the other two won’t be as bad. If there’s a table, which I suppose there sure is, I can use that as a shield if I’m not quick enough to disarm the remaining thugs. I know for a fact that throwing knives to an armed person unless it’s with the intention to kill (which I _don’t_ have, of course), it’s a **big** no-no; so, I’ll just look for whatever else I can get my hands on in order to do that job for me.

I’ll throw as many mugs and plates as I’ll have to, I don’t fucking care. And if all the ruckus I cause calls the attention of someone else… Then I’ll just keep improvising until either one of the following occurs: number one, I succeed; number two, I fucking die; or number three, Matt (or Frank) comes to the rescue. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right? Fuck.

Once I step into the halo of light that spills from the room, I realize that I was right in my previous assessment. There are three men slouching indifferently around a circular table in the middle of what’s definitely a breakroom. Well, I wasn’t confident enough that I would be so spot-on, but here we are nevertheless. Goody. Better so, the three douchebags don’t seem to have noticed my presence yet. So, let’s start this fucking show then. Taking my first step inside, I quickly kick in the head the nearest guy to the entrance and flip the table in the direction of the other two, not only effectively disorientating them for a few seconds, but managing to throw their guns to the floor in the process.

Great, they are now confused and unarmed, time to pull out the sai and start non-lethally slashing away. I have to foremost keep them from getting to their weapons, only that way will I keep the upper hand for long enough to knock them out as well as the first guy. I manage to kick the man to my left in the stomach, pushing him against the wall behind him and getting rid of him while I deal with the moron to my right. To the third guy, I just give him a taste of my sai –slashing him across the chest, ripping open his sweatshirt and shirt underneath, even drawing a stripe of blood– before making him trip after putting my right foot behind his left one while at the same punching him straight in the face with enough force to send him to sleep much like the first idiot.

Without even taking a second to stop and rest, I swiftly pivot in place and come almost face to face with the last remaining henchmen, who’s ready to pounce on me and floor me before I can get to him. Well, not today, my dear. A second before he can step close enough to be in range to grab me, I jump in the air and scissor my legs around his neck only to spin around and bring him face-first into the achingly cold, hard concrete floor beneath us both (more him than me, though). The poor bastard, who unfortunately wasn’t left unconscious even after the spectacular faceplant that he suffered, tries to spit something in angry Russian after turning around on the floor –probably some kind of threat–, which of course is completely lost on me.

“Oh, that sounds pretty bad, but I don’t speak asshole”, I tell him smugly before giving one last stomp on his face and shutting him up for good. Damn these Russians and their bad manners, talking in languages others can’t speak or even understand. What to tell me something? Use fucking English, man. I’m sure you learned at least a bit, otherwise, you couldn’t be even taking part in illegal businesses in this country. Whatever, asshole.

I’m about to step out of the breakroom, considering my job well done and finished, when I hear loud shouting and thundering footsteps coming from down the hall. Awesome, either I wasn’t quiet enough, or this new fucktard managed to escape both Daredevil _and_ The Punisher. Doesn’t matter, I’ll have to deal with him on my own. Although, to be honest, I don’t feel like putting myself in that kind of danger, even if he might not know entirely what was going on here.

He surely must be armed, because if he came all the way over here to either help out or look for help, he would be a fucking idiot to do so without at least a switchblade or some shit like that. Better be safe than sorry and just have this over with before it even starts. All I need now to get rid of this oncoming threat is something big enough to throw at him and knock him out with. What could it be then? What indeed… Wait, is that a–

The newcomer doesn’t even make it to the doorstep since I launch the medium-sized microwave to his head just as he reaches the still-open door. It’s fair to say that he didn’t see _that_ coming. I don’t think I have ever been this grateful for Matt’s strange and at times ridiculous retelling of his previous fights and his resourcefulness while in those. That piece of knowledge definitely came in handy, after all.

Otherwise, I don’t think the idea to use a freaking microwave as a projectile would have even crossed my mind in the split second that it took to make that decision, to begin with. I suppose it’s only natural that when you fight like Murdock and me, without the intention to kill and thus without using lethal weapons such as firearms, you have to get more creative with your fighting style and resources. Still, my job here is done; time to rejoin my boyfriend, at least if he’s done as well.

Five minutes after that amazing microwave shot that unfortunately only me and the dipshit were witness to (and that only I will remember), and after walking through a sea of inert bodies lying scattered across the floors of different hallways and rooms, I finally make it to where Murdock and Castle are talking in hushed tones –I suppose in case some asshole is still semi-conscious or something–. They both look up in my direction as soon as they notice my presence, eerily synchronized, and their expression morph from worried tension into tired relief. Guess they were wondering how I was doing then.

Without further ado, I let them know I took care of the few guys that were on their break and the one bastard that managed to escape one or both of them, while side-eyeing the lying bodies surrounding us, looking like they’re fucking corpses despite Castle’s agreement to be non-lethal tonight. Still, Matt thanks me and tells me that he’s glad that I’m okay (to which Frank quietly adds that he shares that sentiment, funny enough), right before letting me know that the cops are on their way and thus, we should skedaddle out of here as soon as possible.

And so we do, running into the night as quickly and unseen as when we arrived in the first place. Another night and another successful mission; one that –as I came to know a little while after departing the warehouse– involved a small cell of the Russian mafia, newly resurged, planning to rob a bank, kidnap someone loaded, and overthrow a bigger rival mob, all in one single night. Damn ambitious. Too bad they were just a bunch of stupid assholes who thought themselves either unnoticed or prepared enough to survive the powerhouse of a combination that are Daredevil and The Punisher, with the added component of _**me**_ , bitches!

**Author's Note:**

> As I stated already multiple times, this is just me not wanting to part with the characters but not wanting to commit to another long fanfic as well. Also, as opposite to Daring the Devil, these short pieces are supposed to be more lighthearted and fun than their predecessor. As always, thanks for reading.


End file.
